Archive for 2013

(My father is a physician. I am waiting to take him to lunch when a patient comes stomping out of his exam room with him.)

Patient: “All I’m saying is, I need a prescription for Vicodin!”

My Father: “Ma’am, I’m not writing you a prescription for that. Your condition is in no way severe enough for narcotic pain medication. I can prescribe you some Ibuprofen if you’d like something to help with inflammation.”

Patient: “F*** you! I said I needed Vicodin! My wrist really hurts, and other doctors have given it to me without all this s***!”

My Father: “I’m sorry your wrist hurts, but nothing shows up to suggest there is anything serious going on. If those other doctors will write you the prescription, you’re welcome to go to them for a second opinion.”

(It has become obvious that she is not getting what she wants, so she settles instead for cursing and yelling at my father as much as she can on her way out. She verbally abuses the nurse at the front desk, and then turns to deliver the best parting shot she can come up with.)

(I work the night shift. Two men in their twenties enter the store. They’re wearing saggy pants, and all the works. They look like they’ve been in a fight, as one has a black eye and a split lip, and the other has a swollen cheek and a nosebleed. Immediately they start harassing me, making lewd innuendos, and generally being obnoxious. Another customer walks in and spots them.)

Customer: “You again? How many times am I going to have to beat the tar out of you tonight?”

(Both men turn around, take a good look at the customer, turn pale, and leave without another word.)

(I am visiting the Holocaust Museum. I am in a room full of framed pictures and digital displays, with picture slideshows of the war crime trials. There are some teenagers sitting around playing on their phones. An old couple are looking at the slideshows.)

Old Woman: “How do you get the pictures to stop moving?”

(She tries touching the screen.)

Old Man: “Here, let me try.”

(They both assume it is a touch-screen, and are pressing hard against it.The teenagers see this, and start laughing to each other.)

Teenager: “Look at these senile old people!”

(They begin filming the old couple, who are still trying to get the slideshow to stop. A tour guide has heard the noise, and comes over to see what is wrong.)

Guide: “Can I help you?”

Old Woman: “Yes, what button do we need to press to get the picture to stop?”

Guide: “You can’t stop them; it’s a looping slideshow. I think it’s only for two minutes, so you can just wait for it to repeat.”

Old Woman: “But those pictures change so fast!”

Guide: “Is there a reason you need to see all these pictures?”

Old Man: “Yes, I’m looking for the pictures of the bench.”

Guide: “Oh, well there are several photos just over here from the trials. Here’s one.”

(He directs them to the opposite wall to several pictures hidden among a few dozen others.)

Old Woman: “There you are!”

(She grows very excited, and points to the picture as though she had spotted something she had been looking for.)

Old Man: “Yep, got my American Flag pin on.”

(The old man reaches into his coat pocket, and shows the tour guide the pin. The teenagers have shut up by this point, and stopped filming. The tour guide then leads the old couple around the corner to show them more pictures of the trials. I walk up afterwards, and look at the picture. Seated at the bench were the Nazi war criminals that had caused so much death and destruction. Behind them are a line of American soldier guards. While most of the men have no medals or pins on, I spot the one soldier wearing an American flag pin over his heart. Don’t judge a book by its cover. That same man who had difficulty with a foreign device was entrusted to stand watch over some of the worst men of the twentieth century.)